Flames Beneath the Ice
by V0calStat1c
Summary: Little story I'm working on set in Brent Weeks universe. Let me know what you think of it and what would be better.    Format is a two person first-person view. Regular font is Serianna, italics is Dorian.
1. A Meeting of Souls

I knew what I was getting into when I took the job. I always knew what I was getting into when I took a job. It was the same shit it always was. 'Pretend to be this. Get the deader to feel that. Trick them to make… something. Finally, do _it_.' And there was the catch. The "it". "It" never changed. There was a reason we call them deaders. Not just that they were targets, but because the rest of their life was as good as scripted. What would happen, who they would deal with, and how they would die. Like I said, I knew what I was getting into, the same as before, but I knew something else the moment I accepted. I knew what I was getting into, but I also knew, no matter what I did in the next weeks or months, I would never be able to get out.

_I have the Talent. Not just any talent, but the Talent. My father, a Vürdmeister of incredible power and Talent wanted to groom me to be just like him. Well… not exactly like him. He knew I was more Talented than he was, but I didn't want that life. The vir, the black marks under his skin that seemed to move on their own and let him use the Talent, scared me. I didn't want to be reduced to that shell. I wanted to live. I wanted to have my own power. I wanted to be different. I wanted to be a Blacksmith._

_ From the time I was young, my father whispering in my ear the power that I could hold, the respect I could garner, and the fear I would inspire, I would dream of the day I could leave my home and train with the Talent blessed Grand Masters. That day finally came and I ran, telling no one where I was going or even that I was leaving. Now I am considered one of the best. The amount of Talent I have jettisoned me to the top of the class and earned me private lessons from the best Grand Masters. I was granted Grand Master status just two years after I began my apprenticeship._

I might as well tell you what, if not who I am. I am Serianna, I don't give my last name, not to deaders. I am a wetboy, or more accurately a wetgirl, but I don't like that connotation. As for what I'm getting into. What else do you think it could be? It's a job. A new face, a new plan, a new act, and a new deader. The job: Find this Blacksmith, Dorian D'Amor, choose a persona that can get him to love me, trick him into making his Masterpiece, and then kill him with it. The payment for this mission: whatever his masterpiece is, and fifty thousand queens. I couldn't turn it down, even if I hadn't been seduced by the payment, and getting a free D'Amor weapon was a wetboys wet dream, because I was the only one capable of completing it.

I packed what I would need, no weapons, none of my greys, and only a few herbs, perfect for seduction and persuasion. I travelled light and fast, having to cross all of Midcryu before Dorian D'Amor mistakenly forged his Masterpiece for some unworthy sap. If that happened, I would not only fail a mission, but I would never be able to show my face in Cenaria again. The Sa'Kage would make it where I couldn't get another contract and my life would be in ruins. Once I reached Caernavon I found the cities Sa'kage, lacking in the organization of Cenaria, but still a decent force. After that, I bought a house, luckily not more than two blocks away from the smithy that D'Amor owned. My second day I made my way through the streets, having used my Talent to change my appearance so I had a smattering a freckles, for some effect of beauty, a smaller nose than my own, and changing the color of my lips from a pale pink to a rosy red. Once I reached the smithy, a simply inauspicious building nestled between an apothecary and a barn, I steeled myself and walked inside.

_ I had been spending the morning working on a rather large order for the army. I was one of the few Grand Masters that didn't have apprentices in shop, I rarely took an apprentice. It was during one of the few breaks I allowed myself that I stepped into the shop just a few moments, getting out of the heat and smoke of the forge and getting a breath of the freshest air I could get, when she walked in. I'm not a poet in the least, but she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Hair the color of a wheat field during harvest season, and eyes of the most intoxicating blue I had ever seen. Her face was that of an angel, I would have thought her one, but there was something about her, the way she walked, the way she held herself, the measured way she stood for just a few moments. She then began to walk around the shop, browsing. Few things in the world I hate, but one of them is browsing. With Browsers, you can't tell if they wanted to buy something, or just admire the work difference from Grand Master to apprentice. All the work displayed was my own, but no one could tell, I didn't have my own Mark. Everything was made with care and imbued with Talent, from the most basic lock pick sets, to the weapon as close to a Masterpiece I had come. It was my pride and undoubtedly the most expensive item in store. That was where she stopped and stared, as close to an open-mouth gape as I believe she was capable. It seemed to me that her heart sank and something in her changed. It was a spear, a weapon rarely used in war, except as defense against cavalry, but it was special to me. It was made to look like a creature of legend, a Leviathan. The haft was made to appear like scales and spines with four possible handholds, spaced so anyone could wield it. Those handholds were covered by the haft itself, looped and bladed to give the wielder close combat comfort, if not great reliability. The blade was a diamond shaped blade, but with a gap with a jagged interior to represent the mouth of the monster. "Is… Is this your Masterpiece?" The angel turned to me, her voice curious, but somewhat hard._

As I examined the goods of the man's shop I couldn't help but notice that he looked handsome, if you considered men over six foot tall, muscular as a giant, with hair as black as the night sky between the stars, and eyes as grey as the steel his weapons were made from handsome. I did, and it didn't bother me. _It makes my job easier since he isn't ugly or old. How is he a Grand Master? He can't be more than twenty-five._ All of the weapons were beautiful, even the most basic of them. There were also items I wouldn't expect, lock pick sets, needles, punch daggers, nails, horse shoes, and even a few gauntlets with daggers hidden inside, released as the wearers fist stopped on flesh or another yielding surface. As I walked I kept glimpsing at the man behind the counter, soot blackened face, hands scared from years of flame, metal fragments, and missed hammer blows, and those steel colored eyes staring at me like I was the God himself, one of the gods, or the Godking. I ignored the looks, I was used to lechers staring at me, but the looks from this man were disconcerting and like nothing I had ever encountered. That's when I saw it. The most beautiful spear I could ever imagine. Not one in a hundred poets could describe the detail, the beauty, and the fear the spear inspired. It was perfect, no flaws, no detail missed. I could see the shimmer as if it were passing through water as I inspected it. On the battlefield, the wielder would become a legend and a symbol, but here, in this moment, in this shop, it was my worst nightmare. It could only be one thing. Although I lost composure for a few seconds as I was staring at the spear, I remembered the mission and I was back into my mask. "Is… Is this your Masterpiece?" I turned to him, my voice as curious as I could make it, but still with an edge. _Damn! Unless he is a complete idiot then he'll know that I know more than I should. I may as well give up the mission right now._

"No. I haven't had the inspiration to make it yet. But don't tell anyone. Not that it would lower the price of the Leviathan, but if people believe I've made it, then they'll stop trying to make me." _Ok. So he was an idiot. He just admitted to me, a stranger in his shop, that he let people believe he had made his Masterpiece so he wouldn't be pressured to do it. _ He walked around the counter and made his way stand next to me, not close like most mean, but two paces away. He used his apron to wipe the soot off his face, which only served to smear it a little. "You see. Most people don't understand the concept of the Blacksmith's Masterpiece. Those that do, don't ask. They look at what there is and find the best out of that, and then assume. But the few who understand and want the Masterpiece, ask. It makes it harder on me. I can't lie to people, I just can't. If they ask, I tell them. If they ask me to make one, I send them out the door. If they nod and leave, then I respect them without knowing their name. You didn't move after I said it wasn't, so I assume you have something for me to do."

_Oh God, her scent. Even two paces away I could smell it. It was sweet, with the slightest hint of sweat, or was that just me? She seemed to know what she was asking about, and I had to tell her the truth. Rarely did a woman as beautiful as this walk into my shop, and then only with their military husband, or their noble something or other. Never did they walk into the shop on their own, look at my weapons and know what they were asking about. "You didn't move after I said it wasn't, so I assume you have something for me to do." I turned my back on her, my eyes thirsting for the beauty of her flesh as soon as I turned away. "I'm sorry to disappoint, but I'm in the middle of a large order and I have a few after that. If you leave your name, an address, type of item, materials to be used, and a time limit, I'll tell you price, if it can be done. If you have to have something, then the price goes up for it to be pushed to the front of the line." Once I got behind the counter I pulled out my ledger and laid it open on the counter. It was nearly full, only half of the orders filled. Those had been crossed out and folded in half so I would know the order was filled and delivered or had been picked up. _

_She walked over to me and wrote her name, her handwriting tight, neat, and fluid. Serianna Willow. Her name fit her, beautiful and mysterious. I didn't know if the last name was a fake, or if she was under some kind of protection so she had to assume a new surname. _"I need a weapon, any kind. I would like it to be small, preferably, but able to kill easily. I don't care what kind of material, I can pay any price. I need the weapon to be easily concealable. If possible, it may need to be poisoned, so thread holes would be a nice addition. Time isn't a factor."_ In those few details, I knew what she was, if not the extent. I knew why she carried herself so well, and how she was so easily balanced._

_ She was a killer, an assassin. I didn't mind. I did work for all kinds, leaving the items out for all to see. That was why I had no mark. People knew I sold weapons and gear to assassins and thugs, but I didn't like the fact and I didn't want it to come out that my artwork was the choice of the killers. So every piece I made for them lacked the more advanced spells that I placed on my other blades. But for Serianna, it would be different I would use all the spells at my disposal, some I hadn't even used on Leviathan. "Are you a married man Dorian?" The question caught me so off guard, I nearly dropped the ledger as I was placing it back under the desk. The voice that asked it was so different from the one that asked me about Leviathan, that I wasn't sure it was her. Sure enough, the voice was hers, but it was innocent, almost childish, like a young girl confronting her first crush._

I was going to hate myself after this mission, but it had to be done. I knew the answer before I asked the question. "Are you a married man Dorian?" I forced myself from using a seductive tone and instead, used a bashful one. Yes, it caught him off guard, he almost dropped that cursed book. That book made my mission all the harder. I hated this city, I hated the way everyone looked at me, I hated myself for wanting to go against the contract.

"N… No. I've always been too busy here. I'm out of bed before the sun is up, and not done until it has set. I live above my shop, so I have little reason to leave. If I do leave, it's to deliver a finished product or to pick up food for cooking, or new clothes. I've never seen a free woman interested in me." He was so innocent, so truthful. For some reason, my heart skipped a beat when I learned what I already knew. _What is wrong with me? I can't be falling in love. This man, Dorian, is a deader. Why did I just think his name, he shouldn't have one? What's going on?_ "I have to get back to work. It was a pleasure to meet you Seri. Give me two months, and I'll have what you requested." Seri… It was sweet, casual even. But the tone of his voice caused something long dead in me to stir.


	2. A Meeting of Intent

_A small groan escaped my lips as I rolled over, pressing the heel of my hand to one of my eyes. I sat up, my back stiff and my entire body sore from a second night spent sleeping on the floor. I shouldn't have run out of energy this easily. The fire of the forge is a constant source of heat and the vent in the ceiling allows light to come in at all times. But in the process of making this simple dagger I had used more Talent at one time than ever before in my life. It had left me so drained that I passed out beside the forge, physical incapable of crawling up the stairs. As I stood up I looked at the work I had done. So far I had the internal portion of the dagger finished, a long and thin chamber made of cordite to store extra Talent. That chamber would allow the wielder to siphon and use Talent from any person unfortunate to be on the receiving end of a bite from 'Vayash'. _

'_Vayash', a name I remember from my childhood. The name was reference to a legend about a powerful creature that survived by drinking the blood of humans. The legend exists in all cultures, some placing the creature as a demon while others call it something closer to human. It seemed a fitting name for this dagger, capable of restoring the wielder through Talent. I ran my fingers along the blade I had, knowing I needed a few more days before I could even dream of attempting to fuse the cordite with the more sturdy steel of the actual blade. An audible growl rose to my ears as my stomach protested the work of the last few days with so little to eat. I let a small blush slip across my face, running a hand through the hair on the back of my head. "Guess I should go find something to eat." On impulse I grabbed a few queens and made my way out of the shop, enjoying the cool morning air._

Three weeks! Three bloody weeks of sitting on my ass and waiting for anything. Three weeks with no word from Dor… The Deader. I was getting impatient. And when I lose patience terrible things tend to happen. I needed air and a chance to vent my frustration. A bulging coin purse would tempt any lowlife Sa'Kage thug who didn't know what I was. And I wanted to chance to spill a little blood. I grabbed the purse and walked out the door of my temporary house.

No matter how much I hated this city, even I had to admit it was comfortable to live in. The Market District was well maintained and had a glorious amount of shops for anyone to enjoy. Right now I just wanted a warm meal, which only meant one place was worth my time; 'The Night Angel'. Quite an auspicious name for what seemed to be an upscale eatery originally opened by a farmer turned war hero named Dav Slinker. I had discovered a short time after arriving in the city that it was just a front for a smuggling ring and black market trading den. I didn't care about any of that, but they did serve damn good food and brewed their own ale. The ale alone made it a perfect place to spend a lazy evening.

Once I had seated myself, the staff already knowing my order and drink preference, I took stock of the room. My eyes roamed over every patron in The Angel, spotting who was here enjoying the food and who was here for less sultry business. As my ale arrived the front door opened and a giant walked in. The sun was at his back for a few seconds, but no woman I knew of was built as well as him. As the door closed and I could make out his features my breath caught in my throat and I nearly drowned myself with ale. Three bloody weeks and I didn't know Dorian made this his eatery of choice. _Damn. Now what the hell am I supposed to do. Oh fuck it! _I lifted an arm and waved, hoping to catch Dorian's attention. When his steel colored eyes turned to me and that boyish, lopsided grin came to his face I felt my heart skip a beat.

_It wasn't often that I found myself going into The Night Angel. I personally wasn't too fond of ale and the food was only half as good as what I was used to making for myself. But for some reason, the smells drifting from the kitchen out to the street set my mouth to water. I am pretty sure my stomach led me in before my mind could tell my feet to go somewhere else. Once inside I looked around, instantly able to tell the thugs and smugglers from the regular patrons. As I headed toward an empty table near the fire a movement and flash of gold to the left caught my eye. I turned and sitting in a corner, her back to the wall, was Serianna. I had almost forgotten what she looked like and her beauty brought a smile to my lips. Carefully making my way through the bar I sat in the chair that she pushed out for me. "Good morning Miss Willow. I hope you have enjoyed the city these last several weeks. Your order is coming along well. I am almost a third of the way finished with it. I believe it will surpass any expectation you could possibly have." I grinned; glad I had been able to keep myself from telling her every little detail I had planned for Vayash._

As Dorian made his way over to me I did my best to paint on an endearing smile. I watched him, studying how he walked and carefully avoided every shady patron. If he couldn't avoid them completely, he didn't give them a chance to put a knife in his back. _So he's smarter than I thought. Cute._ As he sat in the chair, or rather, barely kept himself from collapsing into the chair, I saw that his mind was even more strained than his body. Fresh cuts on his hands attested to how hard he had been working since I left him. A few burns on his arms showed he may have collapsed beside his forge more than once. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

However, if he kept up his pace I wouldn't even have to kill him. He would do my job for me, without getting me that damned knife. No matter how much I hated the thought, and at this point for some reason I didn't, I would have to keep him from doing just that. How I would do it, well. I guess I just have to wing it. No plan, no disguise, no way out. "So Dorian, have you had much chance to relax while you work, or do all of your orders keep you too busy?" I smiled gently, giving him just the smallest hint of teeth before I settled for a softer approach. By the shiver that ran down his spine I imagined he may have enjoyed that simple flash, but until I knew him better I had no way of actually knowing.

I tilted my head to the side, a practiced move to let my hair slide across my shoulders and fall from around my neck. It helped to accentuate the lines my dress left and to reveal just a hint more cleavage than I had shown previously. By the blush and quick cough I knew Dorian saw it. _He's so damn innocent. I wonder if he's ever felt a woman's embrace aside from his mother._ My breath caught in my throat as I realized the implications of what I just discovered. I knew how to distract him for a night, hell maybe even two. "No Seri. I've been trying to keep all of my orders current while working on yours as well. With the bulk orders I receive they tend to set a deadline that I must follow or lose some of my best customers." He shrugged slightly, a small move that sent a shiver down my spine.

_I was tired. By The One God I don't know how I kept myself from falling into the chair. I didn't realize I had exhausted myself so much. The air here didn't help much. The heady scent of spices and venison was almost too much, while the more subtle tones of stale beer and sweat added to the slight headache using my Talent in such large amounts always brought on. Her question seemed simple and innocent, but her motions caused a stirring in my blood that I hadn't allowed myself since I was young. The way her hair flowed off her shoulders, showing more of her neck and then, by the gods! I had to look away, coughing my embarrassment with a cough and hoping she didn't notice my blush. "No Seri. I've been trying to keep all of my orders current while working on yours as well. With the bulk orders I receive they tend to set a deadline that I must follow or lose some of my best customers." It was a simple truth. The army and mercenary companies paid big money for me to make weapons. As long as they paid I made anything from swords, to bows, to tripwire. But I had almost finished the orders and that left me plenty of time to work on her special order._

_For now though, convincing myself that a day off would do some good, wouldn't take a lot of persuasion. And if she was spending the day with me, it would do me plenty of good. Flagging down a barmaid I ordered a bowl of venison stew and a glass of wine. I didn't like to drink, never was good at holding alcohol, but I could handle small amounts of wine as long as there was plenty of food with it. After I ordered the meal I turned back to Seri, certain I could keep my eyes above her breasts if I tried hard enough. "I never got around to asking, but want brings you to Caernavon Seri?" I smiled gently, wondering to myself if she would answer. I already had a feeling I knew, but I wanted to affirm my beliefs._

_She bit her bottom lip nervously and her eyes flitted around, as if searching for an answer that wouldn't come. "Business Master D'Amor. I have a friend in Cenaria who has been a fan of your work for some time. They send me to see if you were worth the cost we have heard from the army. Until I receive my dagger, I cannot leave. But I must say I am impressed by what I saw and those I have spoken to are all in agreement that your price, though steep, is very fair compared to the finished product." It seemed honest, and the answer rolled off her tongue as if it really were true. I couldn't find a single reason to doubt her because of her story. I just didn't envision her as the front runner for some unnamed group, she didn't seem the type._

As he used the order for food to cover his embarrassment I couldn't help but laugh a little, the first time I had honestly laughed in a long time. I ordered the same as him, seeming to defer to the role of support to his lead. It was a calculated move on my part, hopefully giving him the impression that I still needed someone to watch out for me. I didn't, but hopefully he wasn't smart enough to have realized that. And then he asked that damn question. The one question I had hoped he wouldn't ask. "What brings you to Caernavon Seri?" Still calling me Seri, even though the slight edge in his voice told me that he didn't completely believe it. I bit my lip, and blushed, looking down and away from him for a moment so I could think of an answer. _Damn him. What am I going to say? Damn him, damn him, damn him. Wait! What if…_

I looked back to him, meeting his steel grey eyes. "Business Master D'Amor." It wasn't a complete lie. And by telling him I was coming in front of a large order, I knew it would push aside suspicion of anything else. Hell, even I would have believed the story and I don't believe myself even when I talk to the Shinga. No one knew where I was from, who my parents were, or why I was the best at what I did. My dad Remus had taught me a small amount of body magic before he disappeared. I didn't care that he ran out of me, mom died when I was young and dad had trouble doing anything for long. His limp kept him from most hard labor and military duty. When he disappeared, I was thirteen, able to make a living on my own. Two years later I was picked up as an apprentice to a wetboy and learned the trade. That's my story. The story only I know.

As soon as the food hit the table I took a drink of the wine, a good and strong red wine, a perfect complement to slightly overcooked venison. The stew was warm and thick, spiced perfectly to accent the flavor of the deer meat and enhance the potatoes. After a few minutes eating in silence I risked a full look at Dorian, I had never taken my eyes off him, but I didn't outright watch him. As I began to speak his eyes met mine and the words caught in my throat. I was about to do something I had never done before, but that I had been told could be my best weapon. Sex, a woman's must powerful playing card. "Master Dorian. If you aren't busy for the rest of the day, would you mind spending the rest of the evening with me? It may give you an idea for the dagger."


End file.
